


My Best Friend John

by Mithen



Category: DCU Animated
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  The Martian Manhunter gives Superman a crystal to help him sleep better, with unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Superman threw the papers onto the desk in front of J'onn J'onnz with a little more force than strictly necessary.  "Any other paperwork I need to fill out?"

The Martian Manhunter gave him a level look from eyes like polished rubies.  "Kal-El.  You need to fill out these forms because of the extra property damage incurred during the most recent conflict with Lex Luthor--damage incurred because you rushed ahead recklessly."

Superman grimaced.  "He needed to be stopped."

"We were in the process of doing so, and would have more efficiently if you hadn't been so hasty to engage him."  J'onn rose from his seat at the League table, his cloak flowing around him.  "Kal-El."  He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.  "Forgive me if I intrude, but you have seemed more...on-edge than usual.  Your actions lack their usual consideration and reflectiveness."  When Superman said nothing, the Martian continued gently, "I ask for the good of the team, Superman.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

Superman rotated his shoulders as if his back and shoulders hurt, frowning.  "I know I've been tense lately," he said grudgingly.  "It's no one thing, just a lot of small things piling up.   I haven't...been sleeping well.  Nothing dramatic," he hastened to assure J'onn, who looked alarmed.  "Just that even though I don't need much sleep, I don't seem to feel rested in the morning."

The Martian Manhunter rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Wait here a moment," he said, and re-appeared in a second with a small faceted gem that glowed slightly with a clear blue light. 

"It's beautiful," Superman said softly.  He reached out a hand to touch it almost involuntarily, then stopped himself. 

The Martian held it toward him with a small smile.  "It's a Focusing Gem, the last of its kind.  It grants nearby sleepers a sounder sleep, filled with lucid visions of happy times.  I'll loan it to you for a week or so;  that should be enough to get you fully rested...and perhaps a little less cranky."

Superman put out his hand somewhat hesitantly, and J'onn dropped it into the Kryptonian's palm, where it flared up briefly in a blaze of cerulean radiance, then subsided into quiet glimmering.  "Will it work for me?" asked Superman.

"The sections of the Kryptonian brain that control dreaming are remarkably similar to the Martian brain.  I believe the Gem will only work for Martians and Kryptonians, actually."

Kal closed his fingers around the gem.  Azure light leaked through his fingers, glowing.  "Thank you, J'onn.  I'll try it tonight."

J'onn bowed his head slightly.  "Pleasant dreams, Kal."

**The First Night**

Clark opened his eyes to find himself sitting on a tree root in front of a frozen pond.  He stared down at his small, mittened hands for a moment in surprise before he remembered:  the Gem.  He had gone to sleep with it on his nightstand, and now he was...

He looked around him at the snow-covered ground, feeling the snap of icy air on his cheeks.  He reached up and felt the knit cap on his head and knew that if he could see himself, he'd be about six yours old.  He was in Kansas, at the old Bauman pond.  It was winter.  He was wearing ice skates.

"Kal?" said a puzzled voice beside him.  Clark looked over and saw a small boy, about the same age as him, dressed in winter clothes.  Sandy brown hair fell down across brilliant green eyes in a heavily-freckled face.  The boy lifted hands covered in bright red mittens and stared at them.  "What am I doing here?"

"J'onn?"  The boy nodded, bewildered.  "You...seem to be in my dream."

"That isn't the way the Gem is supposed to work," said the boy, his freckled face uncannily solemn for a six-year-old.  Clark felt a sudden surge of childish mischief go through him at the sight.

"Well, you're here now."  He reached out and grabbed J'onn's hands in his own.  "Let's skate!"

J'onn waved his other hand comically in an attempt to keep his balance as Clark dragged him onto the ice.  "Whoa, whoa, why can't I--ooof!"  He went down in a heap.  Clark skated up to him, suppressing a giggle at the sight of J'onn looking so nonplussed.  "I should be able to keep my balance."

"I guess the Gem has given you the form and reflexes of an average young child..."

J'onn pulled himself upright, snatching at Clark's hand as his feet went out from under him.  "I fail to see the appeal of this pastime," he said gravely.

Clark reached out and took J'onn's other hand in his.  "I loved skating.  Just...relax and slide your feet forward.  That's right," he said encouragingly as J'onn began to skate along.  "Good, good!"

There were still a few spills, but Clark eventually got J'onn relatively mobile.  The Kansan's six-year-old body wasn't capable of sophisticated maneuvers, but he could still literally skate circles around the other boy, and proceeded to do so.  "You're making me dizzy, Kal," J'onn complained with a smile in his voice.

Clark dug in his skates and stopped in a spray of ice.  "You always call me 'Kal.'  I'm not Kal here.  I'm just Clark."  He grinned at the other boy.

"Okay...Clark," said J'onn after a moment.  Clark whooped and grabbed his mitten to drag him across the ice again, over J'onn's protests, and they ended up in a snowbank on the far side of the pond.

Clark brushed off his cap and grabbed a handful of snow, packing it between his hands.  "This is perfect snow," he said gleefully.

"Perfect for what?" asked J'onn, and received his answer in the form of a snowball in the face.  He spluttered and grabbed his own handful of snow as Clark ducked behind a snowbank, the skates magically transformed to boots in the manner of dreams.

A vicious snowball fight ensued, resulting in no clear winner and two winded and grinning boys.  "Oh, gosh," said Clark suddenly, looking at the sun sliding down the horizon.  "I'd better get home, Ma will be worried about me.  Wanna come and have some cocoa?"  He smiled invitingly.

"I'd love to," said J'onn slowly.

On the Kent porch, Clark stomped the snow off his boots and pulled his heavy winter wear off, J'onn mirroring his movements carefully.  "Ma!  I'm home!" Clark yelled.  As he went into the warm kitchen, he caught sight of himself in a mirror and stopped to stare at his six-year-old self, so familiar and so strange:  cheeks a deep red from cold under a tangle of black hair, his eyes sparkling.  Beside him in the mirror appeared another face, freckled and somewhat wary, the bright green eyes half-familiar, half-not.

"Oh?  Who's this?" asked a younger version of Martha Kent as Clark entered the kitchen with J'onn.

Clark smiled.  "Oh, come on, Ma.  It's John!  You know, my best friend, John!"

Martha beamed as the dream shifted to adjust to Clark's thoughts.  "Well, of course it is.  I'm so sorry, John, I didn't recognize you for a moment!  Have you gotten a haircut?"

John brushed his hand through sandy hair.  "Something like that."

"Well," Martha said, rummaging through the cupboard.  "Lucky for you, I still have some..."  She returned to the table with a plate with six Chocos carefully arranged on it. 

John chortled and swung his feet, looking suddenly a lot like the boy he seemed to be.  "Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he said politely before picking up a cookie.  Mugs of steaming cocoa joined the table a moment later and the two boys sat in companionable silence, enjoying the snack and the warmth of the kitchen.

"This is nice," said Clark as his mother washed dishes and hummed to herself quietly.  "I'm glad you could be here."

"Me too," said John, licking the icing out from the middle of a Choco.  The last thing Clark saw as the dream faded out around him was John's smile across the table, boyish and ancient at the same time.

: : :

There was a JLA meeting that Superman had to chair the next day.  It was more contentious than usual, and Clark could feel his irritation at the time wasted starting to climb.

Suddenly, in his mind, he could feel a cold wind against his face, the brief exhilaration of skimming speed sluicing through the annoyance.  His bad mood dissipated in the memory.

He met J'onn's eyes for a moment and looked away again, smiling, seeing an answering curve on the Martian's lips. 

The shared memory.

**The Second Night**

J'onn was sitting on a large rock in the middle of a creek of some sort.  He looked around.  On either side of the creek rose the banks of a steep ravine.  Large oak trees at the top of the ravine spread dappled shade across the water surrounding him.

Something else was odd.  He looked down at himself and realized he was in a windbreaker, jeans, and a t-shirt.  He flexed his human hands and estimated his age as about ten years old.

The dream.  He was back in Clark's dream.  But where was--

"John!" An excited young voice came from the top of the ravine, and John looked up to see Clark waving at him.  The other boy scrambled down the steep bank in a cascade of dirt and pebbles, then jumped across stones until he came to rest on the same rock John was on, waving his arms for balance.  "You came back," Clark said happily.  He was a little taller than in the last dream, but his movements were still full of childish energy.

"It wasn't my choice," John said slowly.  "Perhaps it is a residual effect from my many years of using the Gem."

Some of the happiness faded from Clark's eyes at J'onn's abstracted response, but he dropped down onto the sun-warmed rock with a smile.  "I used to come here a lot.  Usually alone.  I knew all these rocks by heart."  He looked down into the eddying pools around their perch.  Small water-skating insects glided on the still sections of water.  Clark picked up a dead leaf lodged in a crevice of the rock and set it in motion in a slow current.  "I'd pretend these were boats and race them.  Though it wasn't much fun when I was on both sides."  He held out a large curved leaf to John with a grin.  "Wanna race?"

The two boys followed their leaf-boats down the stream, jumping from rock to rock to keep up and talking trash at each other.  Or trying to, in John's case.  "Your boat is...an example of inferior workmanship," he managed after a time.

Clark made a snorting noise and almost missed the rock he was jumping to.  "Yo mama," he retorted.

"What about my mother?"

Clark blushed.  "Nothing.  I'm just being silly.  Hey look, you won!" he noted cheerfully as John's leaf passed the large white rock that marked the end of the race.  "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," said John.  He had nearly lost track of the "race" in his attempt to convincingly insult Clark.

"I wonder if they'll be here..." Clark said absent-mindedly as he moved downstream to an area where the creek briefly slowed and deepened.  "Hey, look, John!"  He snatched at the water briefly and came up with his hands dripping, something clasped in them. 

John looked more closely and realized it was a small frog, its throat pulsing wildly in Clark's grip.  "Don't hurt it!" he said automatically, and Clark looked indignant.

"Of course not."  He opened his hands a little, very carefully, admiring the strange golden eyes staring back at him.  "Isn't he gorgeous?"  Clark ran one small finger gently down the stripes running along the green body, delicate on the soft skin.  "You should hear it when they're all singing at night, it's amazing."  He opened up his hand over the water and the frog gathered its long legs up and sprang dramatically from his palm into the pool with a loud plonk.  Clark laughed, like the laugh J'onn knew but freer, more open.  Then he flashed a mischievous look at John and pulled off his windbreaker.  "Let's go swimming."

"What?  In our clothes?"

Clark's grin was gleeful.  "No, silly."  He pulled off his shirt and started untying his sneakers.

"You don't mean naked,"  John said in horror.

"I thought Martians ran around naked all the time," said Clark.  He turned his back to John and unbuckled his belt, then pulled off his pants as well.

"I'm not a Martian right now," John pointed out, keeping his eyes away from Clark.

"Nope, you're my best friend John."  There was a splashing noise and John looked to see Clark in the creek, pale body glimmering through the water, his teeth chattering.  "C-c-come on in, th-the water's f-f-f-fine!"  he managed.  "May-maybe a little on the ref-f-f-freshing side..."  He ducked his head underwater and came up with a whooping noise, tossing dripping dark hair back.

John slipped slowly out of his own clothes, feeling uncomfortable even though he knew perfectly well this dream-body wasn't his own, and lowered himself into the water, which was indeed almost numbingly cold.  As his body adjusted, he looked over to see Clark grinning and splashing around, naked limbs kicking up sprays of water.  John slid wholly underwater and felt the silent coldness engulf him.  He opened his eyes as Clark ducked underwater himself swimming closer to John, dark hair waving around his pale face like a black corona, blue eyes dimmed by the darkness of the water.  John shifted back in the water, feeling it flowing around his body in ripples of cold, and closed his eyes.

The gentle feel of the water around him lifted him out of the dream and back into the waking world alone.

: : :

The call came in at the Watchtower the next day of a massive forest fire in Europe.  J'onn was on call and hurried to Austria to find a small village about to be engulfed in flame.  He prepared to plunge into the village to rescue people, but found himself pausing for a moment, cursing himself, staring at the flames, feeling their heat sapping his strength, mesmerized.

There was a sudden motion beside him and Superman was there.  J'onn looked over at the Kryptonian, who met his eyes steadily.  Kal said nothing, but J'onn suddenly remembered cold water around him, pure and soothing, keeping him safe.

Kal nodded.

Together they turned and flew into the village.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Martian Manhunter gives Superman a crystal to help him sleep better, with unexpected results.

**The Third Night**

Clark wandered the streets of Smallville, looking for John.  They were supposed to meet tonight, he knew that.  Where was he?  His reflection glimmered from the store windows as he passed--a gangling adolescent, maybe thirteen or so.  He sensed vaguely that there was something strange about that, but he couldn't remember what at the moment.  He'd ask John about it when he found him.  Everything always made more sense with John around.

He heard the voices coming from a vacant lot before he saw them.  "Hey, freak.  Freaky kid.  You and your weird eyes.  You don't belong here, you know."

John's level voice:  "I've never done anything to harm you."

A sniggering laugh.  "Oh, pussy-boy greeny-eyes is gonna go cry to momma?  That whatcha gonna do?"

Clark charged into the lot, his heart pounding.  John was there, older now, his freckles more muted and his sandy hair shaggy.  He was standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of a well-worn leather jacket, eyes cast down, in front of a group of jeering older boys.  "What the hell are you doing?" yelled Clark at the mob, fury driving him past all caution.

John stared at him.  The other boys brayed laughter, and the leader swaggered over to Clark.  "Oh, it's the weirdo's buddy.  Should have known you'd show up to help him.  Well, now we can beat you both up together, you little faggo--"

Clark punched him in the nose. 

The teen staggered back, howling and clutching at his face.  "Get 'em!" he shrieked at the rest of his gang, and Clark found himself with his back to John's, surrounded by angry bullies.

The fight was fairly even;  John and Clark were limited in their physical abilities and outnumbered, but had teamwork and righteous rage on their side.  They gave about as good as they got, until the older boys backed away and melted into the distance--literally faded away, which made Clark stare and then let out a long breath.

"That's right.  This is a dream."  He took in John's bruised cheekbone and the streak of blood on his forehead.  "Why--why would I dream of people trying to hurt you?  I'm so sorry, John!"  He felt his lower lip trembling slightly and struggled to compose himself, his young body pitching forward into emotions he had long since learned to reign in.

John's smile was serene and a touch unworldly under bright green eyes.  "You didn't dream of people trying to hurt me, Clark.  You dreamed of yourself getting to rescue me."  He reached out and touched the corner of Clark's eye and Clark winced.  "You're going to have quite a--what is it called?  A 'shiner' there yourself."  Clark tried to look away, but John wouldn't let him, holding his face toward him.  "And it was a pretty fun fight, wasn't it?"

Clark started to laugh, a rather shaky laugh.  "I guess I needed to blow off some steam, huh?"  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes.  "All right."  He opened them to find the scene had shifted entirely;  the two of them were now in an empty campground at night.  Cottonwoods and oaks dotted the dim horizon;  somewhere an owl hooted softly.  Before them was a small firepit filled with twigs and branches.

Clark made a small, delighted noise.  "We used to come here sometimes, in the summer.  Pa would build a fire and we'd--" he broke off with a chuckle as he found a book of matches in his jeans pocket, then leaned forward to set a match to the kindling. 

As the flames licked around the wood, he remembered his companion and looked over quickly to find John staring at the fire.  "John, are you--" he asked in alarm, but the other boy shook his head slowly, firelight casting golden glimmers through his pale hair.

"It seems to have no effect on me in this form, in this realm."  He drew near, looking into the glowing flames, then reached his hands out tentatively to the fire.  "It is...pleasant," he said wonderingly.

Clark opened a cooler that had been sitting, waiting for them, on a nearby picnic table.  "Root beers," he said cheerfully, handing a bottle to John.  "And check this out."  He pulled out a bag of marshmallows, a couple of chocolate bars, and a box of graham crackers.  "S'mores!"

"S...mores?"  echoed John dubiously.

"Oh trust me, you are going to love these," said Clark smugly.  He handed John a sharpened stick that had been resting against the table, opened up the bag and impaled a pillowy white cube on it.  "Hold it over the fire, let it toast."  Soon the smells of wood smoke mingled with the sweet scent of cooking marshmallow. 

John's first try caught fire and dropped into the coals, to his chagrin.  "It's easier after the fire burns down a little, no problem," Clark reassured him, grabbing another.  He took John's stick from him and slid the hot marshmallow between two graham crackers with a generous slab of chocolate.  "Here," he said, holding it out to John eagerly.

The look of bliss on John's face as he consumed the treat was quite rewarding.  Clark ate his own and licked his fingers with relish, then made them both another.

The fire was dying down by the time they finished their root beers.  "Come here," said Clark, walking off into the darkness.  John followed him to find Clark standing near a large, flat-topped granite boulder near the edge of a field.  Clark clambered on top of it and laid down, looking up;  John followed suit.

The sky above them was a dizzying array of stars, clustered thick and brilliant as gems in the ebony sky.  "I used to lie here and wonder where I was from, which direction was home," Clark said softly.  He pointed to a reddish light, low on the horizon.  "Look...Mars." 

He dropped his hand back down and somehow it ended up in John's, their fingers entwined as they looked up into the sky together.  The world was very silent and Clark could hear his heart pounding.  "Clark," John whispered, almost too low to hear, "I was wondering--"

A sharp buzzing noise.  Vaguely Clark realized it was his JLA pager.  He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, and picked up the pager.  "Mm?"

Flash's voice:  "Big Blue?  We need your help in Star City, pronto.  Looks like the Secret Society's reformed and is taking out some pent-up aggression there."

"On my way," said Clark a bit muzzily.  He hung up and stared down at his hand.  "Damn," he said softly.

: : :

Star City was under siege when Superman arrived, and soon he found himself facing down the Ultra-Humanite, Star Sapphire, Sinestro, and Metallo.  No one else seemed to have gotten there yet, and Superman braced himself for the assault, sizing them up.

A voice in his head, rich with affectionate laughter:  They're nothing but a bunch of bullies, Clark.

Superman smiled and the four villains fell back a step.  He lunged forward.

His back-up would be there soon.

**The Fourth Night**

J'onn found himself in a long corridor.  It appeared to be a high school hallway, dark and silent at night.  In the distance he heard music and began to walk toward it.  He caught sight of his reflection in a glass trophy case as he went down the hall:  John's wary green eyes glittered out at him.  He was taller now, with a hollow-chested, gangling slouch, his freckled face solemn.  Sixteen, maybe seventeen.  He was wearing a plain gray sweatshirt and broken-in jeans.  He kept walking.

The music led him to a set of gymnasium doors leaking light and sound into the hall.  A banner above the door proclaimed "Smallville Homecoming."  There was a table out front with a few high school student at it, marking off names.  "Oh, it's John," said one of them as he approached, checking off his name.  "Go right on in."

Inside the gym, rock music was blaring and colored lights bounced off the walls and the faces of the crowd.  In the middle of the floor, a large group of teenagers banged up against each other in something approximating a dance.  John ignored them and scanned the edges of the crowd.

Clark was leaning against a wall in the back, alone, sipping a cup of cider from the concessions stand.  He was gazing out at the mob of dancers with a wistful look on his face.  John took a long, level breath and walked over to him.

Clark smiled when he saw John:  not an abrupt flash of smile, but a slow, delighted smile that lit up his face like a gradual sunrise.  The music seemed to fade away so they could hear each other easily over it.  "I...wasn't sure you'd come tonight," Clark confessed.

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," said John. 

Clark seemed to realize he was staring at his friend and broke eye contact, looking flustered, to stare back out at the dancers.  Then he glanced over at John again as a new song started.  "Let's dance," he said, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him out onto the floor.

John stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor.  "From my understanding of Earth culture, it is not considered appropriate for two members of the same sex to dance together in your hometown."

Clark's eyes glinted anger and for a moment John could see Kal behind them.  "Well, screw Earth culture then.  I want to dance with my best friend." 

John continued to stand, looking somewhat helpless.  "I...do not know how."

"You just...um, like this."  The song was a fast one, and Clark started to dance--a rather graceless shuffling of feet like most of the other teens around him.  John mimicked his moves and Clark smiled, then moved forward until they were dancing with each other.  The crowd on the floor seemed to push them together, their hip bones banging awkwardly and sweetly from time to time, and Clark's smile was luminous and shy.

The music shifted into something slow.  All around them couples put their arms around each other to move close together, more like a swaying embrace than a real dance.  John started to leave the floor, but somehow found Clark's arms around his waist, nudging John's arms onto his shoulders.  "One more dance?" Clark whispered into his ear, leaning close.  John smelled soap and a touch of sweat, felt Clark's body against his, and nodded, speechless.

Over the music, two girl's voices caught John's ear.  "--no, I wouldn't bother asking Clark to dance, he seems to have found his partner for the night."

The other girl's voice was amused.  "It's about time, isn't it?  The two of them are practically inseparable, after all.  Clark's had a crush on him for ages."

John could feel Clark's neck turning hot with an agonized blush.  He didn't dare pull back from the embrace to look the other boy in the face, but he brushed his lips across the heated skin, so lightly that perhaps Clark wouldn't be sure if it was deliberate or not.  He felt Clark suck in a gasping breath and tried not to blush too much himself.  The mirrored ball above them cast blue and green lights all around, like stars.  John closed his eyes and lost himself in the music, in the feel of Clark's arms around him.

As the song ended, Clark stepped back, his face still rather pink, his lips slightly parted.  "Let's get out of here," he said abruptly, grabbing at John's hand.  "They're doing hayrides outside."

The crisp fall air fanned John's hot cheeks as they stepped outside.  There was a tractor with a trailer attached to it, filled with bales of straw and hay, loose piles of fragrant dried grass clumped all around.  John and Clark climbed into it, sitting down on one of the bales.  No one else seemed to be joining them, and the tractor pulled off with a jerk, trundling slowly into the wooded fields.

John looked up at the sky, feeling Clark's body warm next to him.  "This is quite pleasant, but I'm not sure I see the point."

There was a chuckle in Clark's voice.  "Well, usually it's an excuse for couples to do a little making out."

"Oh."  John felt himself blushing again.  The tractor hit a particularly large pothole and he slid off the slippery bale into the loose straw on the floor of the trailer.  Clark snickered and John lobbed a handful of hay at him, smacking him right in the face. 

"Oh, bring it on, man," said Clark in a mock-snarl, heaving a handful of straw back at John.  Soon they were trading off showers of sweet-scented grasses, which somehow turned into a wrestling match.  There was hay everywhere, in Clark's dark hair, on his sweater, and somewhere in the tussle, somehow Clark's mouth ended up on his, tasting of apples and cinnamon, and the wrestling was forgotten entirely in the sensation of Clark's mouth, warm and gentle and inviting, his teeth nibbling slightly on John's lower lip, running his tongue across it luxuriously, tasting and caressing, breaths warm and fast in the cool autumn air.

They did nothing but kiss for what seemed like a perfect forever, the steady thrum of the tractor engine seeming to dissolve their bodies together, Clark's mouth all that John needed from the universe, the sweetly dusty scent of hay all around them.  Slowly he became aware Clark was whispering hoarsely between kisses, almost to himself.  "J'onn...J'onn," and he felt shock run through his body at hearing Clark say his waking name.  He opened his eyes slowly to see Clark staring at him, blue eyes luminous in the moonlight, glowing like the earth seen from space.  Seen from Mars.

"J'onn," Clark whispered again.

"You..." he wasn't sure how to say it, wasn't sure what the words were.  "...Waking, too?  Not...just here?"

Clark's mouth was against his again.  "Anywhere you want, J'onn.  Anywhere, love," he whispered into his mouth, into his soul, and J'onn woke up still tasting the word, feeling it reverberating through him, alone in his bed in Colorado.

He looked down at his emerald skin, felt the night silence around him like a living thing, waiting.  "Kal?" he whispered, reaching out with his thoughts as well, and then, "...Clark?"

A whisper of movement and color at his window.  J'onn looked over to see the Kryptonian hovering outside, peering in.  The bright costume was Superman's, the otherworldly face Kal's.

The eyes, shy and eager, were Clark's.

J'onn walked over to the window and let his best friend in.


End file.
